


Dragon Your Mind Through The Gutter

by afterandalasia



Category: Oxventure (Web Series)
Genre: A lot of discussion of Egbert the Careless but he never actually makes it onscreen, Between-adventure downtime, Canon Compliant, Gen, Minor Adhrel/Egbert the Careless, Minor Max/Shattershield (Oxventure), Post-Episode: s03e11 Fast and Furriest, Terrible Curiosity, The Joyful Damnation (Oxventure), The Mysterious Genitals of Dragonborn, aka that time Andy decided to launch a crackship within ninety seconds of the show starting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: “Asking Egbert what?” says Dob, wandering over with a tray of cocktails.Merilwen tries to get an answer in there first, but her hammock is jostled again by Prudence’s tail and she yelps, grabbing at the sides. It’s a shameless move, and Merilwen absolutely should have seen it coming.“What he’s got in his underpants,” says Prudence cheerfully.Dob groans. “Has he been putting bombs in his pants again? We had a whole meeting about that…”
Relationships: Corazon de Ballena | Corazon de Leon & Dob & Egbert The Careless & Merilwen & Prudence
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	Dragon Your Mind Through The Gutter

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is due entirely to Andy's "Is _that_ what they're calling it?" when Johnny says that Max and Shattershield are going to salvage the balloon... just because he needed to get rid of his NPCs for the sake of this next story, I think. Less than 90 seconds to a derailment must be some sort of record. Somehow from there it turned into something that is only one step away from being a shitpost about dragonborn genitalia.
> 
> My thanks to AJ for the title - I'm not good with puns.

Of course, they’re all very careful about not telling Corazón about how many advantages they all see to the Joyful Damnation over the mansion in Necropolis-on-Sea, not least because of the significant danger that he would remember that he owns both of them. Which then, of course, will prompt him to remind the rest of them.

But the sunbathing, well, Merilwen would definitely count that as one of the advantages. Necropolis-on-Sea isn’t really a sunbathing sort of destination.

“You know how,” says Prudence, and Merilwen cracks open one eye. Prudence is lounging in a hammock made of her own magical energy, which has the unfortunate downside of making it look rather… tentacled. Although Prudence doubtless does not see that as a downside. “When Egbert went to speak to Shattershield again, and he said that Max was there as well?”

Merilwen closes her eye again, at least until she receives a poke in the shoulder that feels suspiciously like Prudence’s tail. She props herself up on her shoulder, shades her eyes, and watches Prudence sway.

“Even if I’d missed it, Dob didn’t drop his innuendo voice for the rest of the afternoon,” she points out.

Prudence hums. “It _was_ moderately obnoxious. But Egbert _did_ say that they seemed to be sharing the room.”

“Where are you going with this?” says Merilwen, vaguely concerned. Prudence does not tend to care for social norms of conversation at the best of times, and while it can be charming among just the five of them, it can also sometimes just be a serious lack of filter.

Prudence’s tail scoops up a small bone off the deck and flicks it aside, sending Frisky and The Darkness scampering again. Merilwen hopes it isn’t from one of the skeletons in the hammer this time. “Well, I realised that I’ve never actually seen a naked dragonborn.”

“That clone from the Cave Without Incident was pretty naked,” Merilwen points out. “He didn’t even have his scales.”

She is pretty sure that she knows where Prudence is going with this conversation, though. Tieflings are the same as humans, more or less, and Merilwen knows that humans are the same as elves when it comes to reproduction. Their gestation is quicker, of course, to match their shorter lifespan, but the facts of their lives are much the same.

Dragonborns, though… well, Merilwen sadly knows plenty about their vomit, but not much about the rest of their biology.

“Well, I was more concerned with keeping Corazón upright than with ogling a half-grown dragonborn,” says Prudence.

Merilwen would say that particular day was not one of their finest, but to be honest it was probably about standard for one of the adventures that they ended up fighting their way through. “You’re wondering how dragonborn have sex,” she finishes, bluntly.

“Aren’t you?”

“Well, I am _now_ ,” admits Merilwen. Knowing about various different animals, well… it really isn’t helping the potential configurations that her mind is producing. She’s not entirely sure some of them are even compatible with human anatomy without some serious use of the imagination. “I know that they lay eggs.”

“Like birds?”

Oh dear. Merilwen feels simultaneously like she knows too much and not enough for this conversation. “Well, mammals are the only animals that _don’t_ lay eggs,” she points out. “And before you ask, no, just because I know they lay eggs doesn’t mean that I know how they have sex. There’s… variety, in nature.”

Prudence _visibly_ perks up.

“Don’t,” says Merilwen. She does not point out that they’ll be here all day, because she suspects that will just make Prudence more curious. She also does not point out that she is nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation, because _that_ will just make Prudence remember it next time that the lot of them do get drunk. Which, more dangerously, may lead to the rest of the party being present. “It means that I can’t even begin to guess what Shattershield is hiding under his armour.”

With a huff, Prudence lies back in her hammock, tail once again retrieving the bone her books are fighting over and tossing it across the deck. “Maybe I’ll have to ask Cthulhu,” she mutters, then pauses with her fingers just inches away from the step of her goblet. “Wait! Or you could get in touch with your cousin… Adhrel? Was that it? She’ll know.”

It takes a beat, because why would Adhrel – she hasn’t been out of the village since – oh, _gods_ –

“Prudence!” Merilwen yelps, sitting up so abruptly that she almost tips herself out of the hammock. “Do you mean that you’ve been picturing _Egbert_ –”

“What? You didn’t consider asking–” Prudence begins.

“No! I am not asking Egbert–”

“Asking Egbert what?” says Dob, wandering over with a tray of cocktails. He has taken a real shine to the frilly apron which mysteriously appeared in the galley and which nobody will own up to purchasing. Merilwen is not convinced it isn’t the skeletons trying to be more subtle with their evil.

Merilwen tries to get an answer in there first, but her hammock is jostled again by Prudence’s tail and she yelps, grabbing at the sides. It’s a shameless move, and Merilwen absolutely should have seen it coming.

“What he’s got in his underpants,” says Prudence cheerfully.

Dob groans. “Has he been putting bombs in his pants again? We had a whole meeting about that…”

“I mean, probably,” says Prudence. “But no, I’m trying to work out how kinky Max has to be, to be banging Shattershield.”

A number of different emotions seem to pass across Dob’s face in fairly rapid succession, and Merilwen supposes that at least _she_ has had some time to appropriately process the series of thoughts that must have led to this point. “Oh- _kay_ ,” he says slowly.

“Merilwen says there are a bunch of exciting options in the animal kingdom,” Prudence continues, “but she refuses to explain what any of them are.”

“Huh.” Dob pulls a thoughtful face, as Merilwen gives him a glare and just _dares_ him to actually ask her. “I know that ducks have penises.”

“We are _not_ having a discussion about duck penises,” says Merilwen firmly. If these vagabonds she calls friends _are_ going to make the conversation be about animal genitalia, she is at least going to do her best to steer it towards less traumatising animals.

For that matter, Egbert is nearly seven feet tall, and the implication of the proportions alone is disturbing.

“Look,” Merilwen says, as Dob looks at her hopefully and Prudence gives a wicked, optimistic smile. “There’s a lot of variety in nature. Even among reptiles! I can’t use that to predict what dragonborn have. And I’m _not_ asking Egbert.”

“I’ll go ask Egbert,” says Dob, with a shrug. He passes a full goblet to Prudence, swapping it for her empty one, and then proceeds to offer a second goblet to Merilwen as if the whole conversation isn’t utterly mortifying. “I mean, he was a human when he was a kid, right? Maybe dragonborn made that way don’t have the same as… dragonborn who are… born.”

“Dragonhatched,” says Prudence, with a little too much glee. “Or Dragonmade, I guess you could say. And Dob does have a point. Do we even know if Shattershield was born a dragonborn, or became one?

Okay, _that_ isn’t an unreasonable question to ask Egbert, technically speaking. And he probably would answer it. But given Egbert’s natural curiosity about things, and the clear willingness of either of these two to ask completely inappropriate questions, it would not at all end well. “No, we don’t,” says Merilwen. “And I don’t think we’re going to be asking, so I suppose you can make up your own answers.”

She does, at the very least, accept the drink that Dob offers her. His early attempts at cocktails had not been great, and they had left him to drink them himself, but he had markedly improved. He makes very good fruit margaritas these days.

“I guess we could just send Corazón in to seduce him and find out,” says Prudence. She sips her cocktail, then draws a sigil in the air with one finger which Merilwen recognises by now as summoning her Thaumaturgy. Merilwen is prepared as Prudence turns and all but roars the length of the deck. “Corazón! We have a need for a sexy pirate!”

This time, even Dob sighs. “You can’t just pimp out Corazón, Prudence,” he says, in a way that gives far too much dignity to a conversation that absolutely does not deserve it. Merilwen takes a rather larger swig of her margarita, and considers spending the next hour as an octopus where she does not have to listen to this.

Prudence does not deign to answer Dob, and instead sets the rim of her goblet on fire and sips her drink through it anyway.

It is not wholly a surprise when Corazón saunters round to join them, hat tilted against the sun. “I heard my name,” he says, one of the goblets from Dob’s tray seeming to appear in his hand when he has already walked several feet further along. “What do you need me for?”

Merilwen shakes her head and goes back to reclining in the hammock, knowing that the conversation is now fully beyond her control. She can only hope that the three of them hit a roadblock in their ideas before they actually follow through on what inevitably terrible plan they might end up crafting.

“We need someone to seduce Shattershield, and possibly Max as well, to find out what dragonborn have in their pants,” says Prudence.

Corazón’s expression goes on a slightly longer journey than Dob’s did. “Well, I’m… flattered that you immediately come to me with this task, but I think I’ve missed a few steps in the construction of this plan.” He leans against the railing and gestures with the goblet. “Why do you want to find out what Shattershield has in his pants?”

“Don’t you?” says Prudence, as if it should be obvious. “Well, if you don’t want to, I still say we should ask Adhrel.”

“You’re not asking my cousin about the time she slept with Egbert,” says Merilwen flatly.

Dob’s laughter sounds suspiciously like it is covering a comment about doubting the word ‘sleeping’, but it is lost among the sniggers of the others. Running her tongue along the inside of her lip, Merilwen reaches for another way to dissuade them.

“Besides, who says that all dragonborn are the same? Even if Shattershield _were_ born human, which again, we don’t _know_ ,” she points at Prudence, who smirks over her goblet and flicks her tail again, “their… transformation thing could do anything.”

“Ooh,” says Prudence, glancing over at Corazon. “Maybe it gives them whatever genitals they _want_.”

Corazón goes to say something, then stops and looks worringly thoughtful.

“Egbert _was_ only a kid, he said,” says Dob. “I don’t think I had strong opinions on many things when I was six.”

“I had strong opinions on everything when I was six,” says Prudence without missing a beat. “Besides, do you remember that time when Egbert was shedding? Scales everywhere. Maybe they can change it each time.”

Merilwen mentally weighs the pain of reeling in the conversation now against the pain of letting it go on any further. Trying to keep control is _probably_ for the best. “Most reptiles and birds sort of… keep everything internal most of the time,” she says. She is abruptly glad that she has never changed into a bird or reptile in front of them, and makes a mental note not to unless it is strictly necessary. “So shedding scales wouldn’t affect that.”

She’s _seen_ reptiles shedding, has even helped a few snakes in her time whose scales have caught and needed gentle help. It looked far too uncomfortable to want near any overly delicate areas, and that was without knowing that bad sheds could easily pinch the toes off unfortunate lizards. She decides not to point this out to the rest of them.

“So in conclusion,” says Prudence, “the only way to know for sure is to have Corazón seduce Shattershield and find out.”

“We could just _ask_ –” Dob begins, because in Dob’s world people just answer personal questions when he asks them, but Corazón is already spluttering.

“The only way? As if you are not on the ship of a finely honed seduction machine?” he points to himself. “Am I just a piece of meat to you, Prudence?”

“Yes. A piece of sexy, piratical meat.”

The words do make Corazón pause, visibly uncertain whether he should be offended or flattered. Prudence can still have that effect even after knowing her for years, to be fair. He drinks, probably to cover it up, before puffing himself up to address Prudence again. “Well, I certainly think that you should _ask_ before throwing a man into that sort of plan.”

“We are asking!” says Prudence.

Dob points a finger at her in turn. “ _You_ are asking.”

“I mean, or we could just ask Egbert,” says Corazón. “He might not know how many kidneys he has, but he has to know this, surely.”

The words trip off his tongue, and Merilwen simply downs the rest of her drink as she feels the realisation settle over the rest of them that asking such a question of Egbert could reveal any number of uncomfortable truths either about dragonborn in general or about Egbert in particular.

“Well, he is just down there at the prow of the ship,” Dob says, with a gesture from his non-tray-bearing hand. “I guess we could start by asking if he knows about the changing process itself and whether it makes them just the same as born dragonborn…”

“Then you could look that up in a _book_ ,” points out Merilwen, because that would mean they would at least stop asking _her_. The most common dragonborn configurations, at the very least, should be there if they find some anatomy books.

Corazón, however, is frowning in Egbert’s direction. “Wait, if Egbert isn’t at the helm…”

He seems to realise at the exact same moment as Merilwen does.

“Then Seal Gaiman is,” they both say in unison.

Corazón takes off at a flat sprint, his goblet seeming to magically return to Dob’s tray, while Merilwen takes another look at the tempting allure of the sea below where there are no discussions of genitalia.

“Maybe in the next city we go to, you can try the bookstore, Prudence,” says Merilwen.

From anyone else, the expression that Prudence makes would be called a pout, but none of them would dare accuse her of such a thing. “Frisky and The Darkness get jealous.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind as long as it’s not another living book,” Dob says, which probably decreases Prudence’s interest by about eighty per cent. “Oh! There’s got to be, uh, romance novels that cover the topic.”

Yup, that’s enough for one day. Merilwen finishes her drink, gives Dob the goblet, and slides out of the hammock to her feet once again. Turning into an octopus absolutely sounds like the best use of her time right now. At least Dob had not immediately offered the books, suggesting there was not a secret stash of dragonborn-related erotica on board the ship with them.

“There you go, Prudence,” she says. “You might get your answer after all.”

“Although I have to say,” says Prudence, just as Merilwen puts a hand on the rail of the ship and prepares to slide herself over. Merilwen turns, raising her eyebrows and not at all sure what she’s about to be met with. “If _you_ didn’t know, then there’s no way Adhrel knew. And _that_ is even kinkier than going in knowing.”

Merilwen briefly but very seriously considers giving Prudence the middle finger, then decides against it. “I’ll check Seal Gaiman hasn’t steered us towards any reefs,” she says instead, and before any of them can dare to reply is over the side. By the time that she hits the water, she is an octopus, and Corazón’s distant, irritated shouting fades away to nothingness beyond the serene deep blue.


End file.
